


Bite

by deferney



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Teeth, blowjob, yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 21:41:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deferney/pseuds/deferney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’ve a show in about an hour, and he’s to do an interview in ten minutes, was it?, but he doesn’t care. He’s got to get away.</p>
<p>All because of Louis Tomlinson’s fucking teeth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bite

**Bite**

“You’ve all got to calm down with whatever kinky stuff happens when we’re not around,” Lou Teasdale mumbles to Zayn, smudging concealer on a dark spot on his neck.

Zayn groans, glaring at a cackling Louis, “It’s all Louis! He’s got a problem.”

_No_ , Harry thinks, gnawing his lip while trying to perfect the circle he’s to draw on Draw Something,  _I’ve got the problem_.

What started out so innocent—well not really, because they’re young lads and nothing is very innocent—has become a bit of an obsession for Harry. Giving love bites—harsh nips in awkwardly visible places that make for bad press—was originally just for fun. It was done to pass the time, as is just about everything stupid they do.

But recently it’s changed meanings for Harry. He has less desire to give them, and more desire to receive them. From one Louis Tomlinson.

About two weeks ago, on the bus on the way to who knows where, Harry was sprawled across the couch, snacking on crisps and watching some of the boys and some of the band play Monopoly. He’d normally be ready to beat them all, but that day he was tired, and lying back amusedly watching Niall groan every time he landed on Josh’s properties was entertainment enough.

Louis, sleeping in after a particularly long conversation with his mum the night before, walked out from their bunks, toothbrush in hand. After glancing around to see the whereabouts of his band members, he began brushing his teeth, leaning against a counter. His pretty pale eyes were glossy, staring out the window, and Harry was suddenly captivated.

He watched the lazy movement of Louis hand, the small bit of white foam gathering in the elder’s mouth, the way he couldn’t quite stand still, and kept bending or twisting his legs. No one seemed to notice or care about his sudden fascination, so Harry continued to stare at his best friend. When Louis walked to the sink to spit and rinse, Harry snapped out of his reverence for the other’s dental hygiene (because that’s all it was, right?) until he walked back to sit on the leg Harry’s rested along the couch while his other stretched across the floor.

“Morning!” Louis chirped, others murmuring replies. Harry didn’t respond, trying to avoid staring at his bandmate. He succeeded until aforementioned bandmate swings to face him, “Have I got something in my teeth? They feel a bit chalky.”

Lou smiled widely, and Harry leaned forward to make sure his teeth are clean, and as he does he realizes that Louis’ got  _fantastic_ teeth. White and just crooked enough to be cute, sharp and defined and perfect. For a split second he loses himself and just stares, before clearing his throat and stating roughly, “Look fine to me.”

From there it’d been all downhill. Suddenly everything was Louis Tomlinson’s teeth. Louis when he smiles, Louis when he’s chewing gum, Louis when he’s sneaking up on one of the other boys—the contrast of skin against Louis’ white teeth as he bites, quick and harsh, at someone’s neck.

Now, avoiding staring at anything but his phone, he feels an oddly familiar prickle of hairs in the back of his neck. The room’s become a bit quieter than usual. They’re waiting for something. Before he can move, he feels it—a smooth, unforgiving pinch of his skin.

“Shit!” He grips at his neck, glaring up into blue, laughing eyes. For a split second his emerald ones travel down to the perfect teeth. He imagines them on his neck, his collarbone, his chest, his—

“Sorry babe,” Louis says unapologetically, patting Harry’s shoulder. “It’s been months. Figured I might as well keep the score even.”

Jerking, unsure of how to react, Harry stands, rubbing his hands on his jeans. “I’ve got—I’ll be back.”

And so he exits quickly out of their room, down the hall. They’ve a show in about an hour, and he’s to do an interview in ten minutes, was it?, but he doesn’t care. He’s got to get away.

All because of Louis Tomlinson’s fucking teeth.

***

Harry spends the rest of the day antsy, jerking and unable to answer questions without the twitch of an eye or fixing his hair—hoping to catch Louis in case he tries to bite him again. No one said anything about the youngest’s strange reaction to what’s such a normal occurrence, though he did receive a weird glance from Niall and Liam. Louis, however, seemed equally as weirded out as he was, and was quite obviously avoiding Harry.

The show went well; the girls screamed loudly and everyone was generally satisfied with their performance.

Adrenaline, however, isn’t on Harry’s side, for by the time they are in the van to the hotel he is itching to get away from Louis.

But that’s the problem, isn’t it? That the last the thing he wants is to be away from Louis. In fact, since he’s bit him, all he can think about is those teeth all over his body. All he wants is constant contact with the thin but warm lips and perfect pearly whites behind them.

Disturbed, Harry’s the first out the car and to the lobby, taking a moment to enjoy crisp hotel air before bolting for the stairs.

It’s about the forth flight up that he realizes he’s got to get all the way to the fifteenth floor, and he stops at a landing, leaning against the wall, breathing heavier than he should be for such simple exercise. He flops down and spreads his legs, tilting his head back to examine the never ending staircase above him.

He sighs.

It’s then that he hears it. Footsteps. Sure, dancey, light kind of footsteps that make him want to crawl into a hole and cry.

He refuses to look up, even as the red Toms come into view.

Stubbornness overbearing patience, Louis stands in front of Harry for five minutes, until he looks up.

When he does, Louis holds out his hands, expression blank, “We’re going to your room. Now.”

“Why?” Harry questions, staring at the rough, tanned hands. They’re smaller than his, which he somehow takes comfort in. Maybe even if Louis has some new kind of hold on him with his stupid teeth, Harry can still overpower him. How that’ll help him, he isn’t sure, but he takes some comfort in the fact.

“Because you’re being a bit of a wanker recently, to be honest,” Louis states simply. “For no reason at all, it seems, Curly.”

“Well you’re a bit of a tosser all the time, Boo Bear, nobody stalks you on a stairway,” Harry bites out. At that, he sort of snaps back into himself, and stares up into the pointed look his best friend shoots him.

With a sigh, Harry slips his hand into Louis’, and together they walk up the stairs, neither saying a word. They glance around the hall of their floor to beware of fan girls before entering Harry’s room.

What Harry assumes is to be a slightly awkward but otherwise uneventful conversation quickly presents itself as something other than that when Louis slams him against his hotel room door before he’s even fully closed it. He hears the sure sound of a lock clicking, and then— _holy fuck Louis is **biting the shit out of him**._

“What the  _fuck_  Lou!” Harry pushes his elder away, breathing harshly when he finally separates the vampiric leech from his neck.

Louis furrows his brow. “Okay there’s the Harold I know—what the hell happened to you earlier?”

And then Harry sighs, introverting back into himself and pushing past Louis, plopping down on the couch. For a split second he thinks the stars are on his side and Louis will leave.

But obviously everyone on the planet hates him, for Louis stands behind Harry’s tired form and begins to massage his shoulders. Slightly disturbed but too distracted by the relief in his muscles, Harry groans and leans his head back. Louis hums in the back of his throat, “That’s going to be a bitch to cover up tomorrow.”

“Maybe I’ll leave it and let the Larry Stylinson shippers go wild on Tumblr,” Harry mumbles unthinkingly, laughing a little.

He feels Louis lean down, and damnit he’s let down his guard hasn’t he and—

And sure enough, there those perfect God forsaken teeth are, only not as harsh as before. Rather sweetly, they rake across the bruise already probably forming on his neck where Louis tried to rip out his throat. Unable to control his reaction, Harry’s nails rake down his jeans, a loud gasp leaving his throat.

Just as quick as they appear, Louis’ teeth are gone, and Harry’s eyes shoot open. Louis is resting his chin on the top of the couch next to Harry’s head, staring at nothing with contemplative look. Then, he looks at his friend, “So it’s that then, is it?”

At first Harry’s so sure that Louis has lost the plot that questioning him doesn’t even seem worth it. But then Louis motions to Harry’s crotch, and Harry blanches. Because there it is. Not fully hard, not very visible through his jeans, but it’s there nonetheless—a  _boner_! Harry’s got a hard on for Louis’ fucking teeth!

“Well that’s new,” he says lamely, hesitant to respond to anything at this point.

Louis’ loud laughter sparks a giggle from Harry, but otherwise no one says anything for a moment. Then the hands Harry’d been comforted by earlier begin tracing their way down Harry’s torso. “You know how the whole love bites thing is a game, Curly?”

He murmurs something unintelligible, suddenly fascinated by the black television screen diagonal to them. Who puts a television diagonal to a couch anyway—wouldn’t that be awkward to watch?

“Well why don’t we play another game now?” It seems like it should be a suggestion, but it’s not. It’s  _suggestive_ , if anything.

“What,” Harry’s voice cracks, so he clears it, ignoring the endearing smile sent his way, and begins again. “What exactly will this game entail?”

He laughs mischievously, “Well it’s called Let’s Find Out Where Else Harry Styles Likes to Be Bit, so you can take with that whatever you wish, love.”

Then Louis hands are gone, and Harry’s convinced Louis is taking the piss until said hands return, hiking Harry’s shirt over his head. As for the younger, his body has turned to jelly, and he can’t really move.

And then they really do play Let’s Find Out Where Else Harry Styles Likes to Be Bit—which, in all honesty, turns out to be everywhere.

He likes when Louis nibbles at his collarbone delicately, faint breaths ghosting across his skin and making goosebumps light around his body. He likes when Louis bites down harshly on his nipple and then tugs. He especially likes when he rakes his teeth over Harry’s hip bones when he shimmies Harry’s pants down his legs.

But then he stops thinking about what he likes because Louis’ got more than perfect teeth. He’s got a  _phenomenally talented_ tongue. It’s warm and long and wet and it wraps around Harry easily, teasing his veins and lighting his blood on fire.  “Oh my—Good  _God_ Louis where did you learn to do this?”

The object of his torture only giggles. “Would you like to be bitten here, too, Curly?”

Before he can object because losing his penis right when it starts to get good would be  _really_ bad, he glances down at Louis for the first time since he’s started blowing him, and feels his jaw go slack at the sight. Hair strewn, eyes bright, smiling brightly at him. Then, now that they’ve made eye contact, he leans forward, peels back his flush lips, and lightly, lightly scrapes his teeth along Harry’s cock, and before he even knows what’s happening, he’s gone, cum spurting out in a jerky motion.

Most of it lands in Louis’ mouth, but some land on his cheeks as he pulls back—though Louis doesn’t seem very bothered.

He leans back and traces his fingers along Harry’s sensitive dick, enjoying the heavy breathing and whimpering of the younger boy as he teases already delicate flesh.

Louis climbs up to straddle Harry, but continues to jerk his cock softly. When Harry feels like he’ll actually be intelligible when he speaks, he mumbles out, “Got anywhere you’d like to be bitten, Lou?”

Louis laughs.

**_End._ **

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt fill. Hope you enoyed! :)  
> Love all, give kudos, leave comments, hug a tree~!  
> -Def


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